


Han Solo, Philanthropist

by Luv15



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Chewie rules, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Rogue betting pool, Rogue fun, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 03:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11245857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luv15/pseuds/Luv15
Summary: Leia was cold. Han was warm. Wes noticed. Chewie can read between the lines.





	Han Solo, Philanthropist

Her still-sleepy eyes were fluttering open when he whispered into her ear.

“We’re being watched.” Han’s morning stubble scratched the soft skin of her cheek. Leia’s eyes flashed in deep brown alarm. Her drowsy body tensed against his.

In what appeared as a dozing gesture to block the dawn light, he tugged the poncho that served as a blanket over their heads. The fabric hid the fact that they were awake and communicating. His work-roughened palm covered her mouth to insure her silence.

“You’re safe. It’s just the Rogues, but you’re not gonna like it.”

Her eyes narrowed as she realized they were lying together atop a blanket on the ground of the recon mission’s campsite. She unsuccessfully attempted to jerk away from his tightly held, prone embrace. 

“Don’t be givin’ _me_ the stink eye,” he hissed, firmly gripping her to prevent any movement that could call attention to them. “I’m the innocent guy who was tryin' to get some shut eye, when next thing I know, _somebody_ with an ice cold nose rolls into my neck and sticks to me like a heat-seeking limpet mine.”

She sheepishly frowned: guilty. “Sorry…didn’t realize I did... I was freezing,” her explanation muffled beneath his hand, her lips tickling him as she spoke. She felt pathetic and angry with herself for showing any sign of weakness. He knew her well enough to expect her embarrassment would soon turn into annoyance that, wrongly or rightly, would be directed at him.

"I’m trying to help you out here, Your Worship. Or do you want _this_ ,” he pointed between them indicating they were still entwined in the heat of each other’s arms, “to be _the_ topic of conversation in the pilots’ lounge when we get back on base?”

He could feel her jaw tense and her breath expel in an angry huff. 

“And, here’s a bonus.” She knew by his cocky tone that he was enjoying her discomfort and braced herself for more bad news. “You’ve inspired the latest betting pool.” 

With that she grimaced. She listened as the Rogues chattered around the campfire, eating their morning rations. She could swear she felt a dozen eyes boring into her.

“Because I’m such a good guy, I can help you out. Got a plan that would spoil Wes’ fun. Wanna hear?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. 

She nodded in the affirmative, though wary of his intent.

Han removed his hand from her mouth, two fingers remaining on her lips in an unspoken “ssh.”

Annoyed, Leia brushed his fingers away and peevishly asked, “How do you know there’s a bet?”

“Janson’s big mouth woke me up. Acted like I was still sleepin’ to get the scoop. You beat him at this, he won’t want the word to get out, so he won’t ever repeat the story of our little _PJ_ party or let the Rogues do it, either. They all owe him too much to fight him on it.”

She mulled over his words. “Why didn’t you just get up?”

“Not every day I wake up with a beautiful princess in my arms.” Han teasingly nudged her leg. 

She nudged back hard.

“C’mon, learn how to take a compliment,” he grinned. “And, me gettin’ up couldn’t have saved your pretty ass from this, now could it?”

Leia chose to ignore his last comment. “What’s his stupid bet _this_ time?” 

“What you’ll do when you realize you woke up next to a _gorgeous_ guy like me.” 

She peered at him with one eye shut, sarcastically saying, “I’m _sure_ that's how Wes worded it." 

“Close,” he smirked, then seriously explained, “Even money: you jump up givin’ me hells, callin’ me every name in the book. 2 to 1: you smack me across my _handsome_ face and 10 to 1 I get sucker punched in the gut -- not my favorite options, by the way. And, last ….and I’m willin’ to go along with this one for _your_ sake, Princess, because I’m such a chivalrous guy…” he paused for emphasis: “…you kiss me.” He was grinning from ear to ear. 

“That’s a sucker bet,” she coldly replied.

“You describin’ the bet or the kiss, Your Holiness? That’s the 100 to 1 shot,” gleefully adding, “You know how I feel about impossible odds.”

She groaned again. He was enjoying this too much.

“Don’t get all huffy with me,” he chided her. “I didn’t plan this, just tellin’ you what’s what.”

“Why should I believe you? I didn’t hear any of this,” she began arguing, instantly going silent at the sound of shuffling feet heading toward them. 

“Morning, everybody,” Luke Skywalker cheerily greeted his fellow Rogues. He and Chewbacca were returning from the final night watch of the mission. 

He was met by a chorus of shushes from his cohorts who were seated on the ground, staring at the “sleeping” Leia and Han. Skywalker and Chewie's eyes followed the Rogues’ focused attention to the distinctive blood-astriped trousers stretched out of from beneath the poncho. Luke did a double take when he noticed Leia’s small, booted foot, and visually followed the petite leg up to where it settled atop Han’s calf. 

“Oh, wow!” the “sleeping” pair heard Luke utter.

“Yeah, wow,” Wedge responded with a laugh. “Did they start out this cozy when you and Chewie took over their shift?”

Chewbacca growled in what Han recognized as a sly laugh. 

" _Those_ two? " Luke sounded incredulous. “They were arguing about blankets and gods know what all when we left. They were ready to choke each other, not... _cuddle_?" Luke’s voice registered surprise, questioning his choice of word to describe Leia and Han's position. 

“You want in?” Wes Janson asked the just returned duo. He repeated the odds Han had shared with Leia. 

“Seeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,” Han said to her, vindicated. He was enjoying the excuse to be so close to her, inhaling her perfume and sneaking nuzzled rubs along her earlobe and neck disguised as attempts to inaudibly communicate. 

Hearing Luke agree to a wager was a tipping point for her. “Okay, smart guy. Just how do I beat Janson at his own game?” 

“Chewie. He’ll take the longshot.”

“How will he know to do it?” 

“Trust me,” he replied confidently.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” she frowned, considering the consequence if Chewie’s bet was made: she’d have to kiss Han. She was no longer sure if the Captain’s intent was to simply mess with Wes Janson.

“Cheer up, Princess. The winnings can go into your Alderaan Survivors Fund. How’s that sound?”

She pondered for a second. If there was no monetary reward for Han, _and_ she got to pull one over on Wes _and_ help her charity, what was the harm? It was for a good cause, right?

“Fine. But, I’m in charge of how this plays out,” she snapped.

She knew better than to accept his obsequious “Sure, Leia” reply at face value. Looking down at his arm, which had been wrapped around her during the entire exchange, she warned him: “I do the talking, got it?”

“Yes. And the kissing," he winked. "Can’t forget the kissing part.”

“ _One_ kiss,” she glowered. “And, watch your hands!”

He snorted.

“If this backfires in any way, _you_ are making a huge donation to the Survivors Fund.”

“ _Trust_ me.”

She gave him a sour look. “I’ve heard _that_ before.” 

He ignored the barb. “Don’t do anything until after Chewie places his bet. Pretend you’re still asleep. Give it a few minutes, then do your thing. Ready?” With a resigned sigh, she nodded her assent.

Han made a big show of stretching and pushing the poncho below his waist. That brought into view the fatigue-clad female snuggled against him.

The Rogues nudged each other in anticipation of what was coming next.

Han yawned, rolling over and familiarly rubbed Leia’s shoulder, pulling her more tightly into him. 

“Hey!” she silently hissed. 

“Gotta’ sell it, Sweetheart,” he whispered, adding with false solemnity, “It's for _charity_.”

He stretched again in a make-believe yawn, splaying and flexing four fingers in a silent message to his co-pilot. He and Chewie had been together long enough to know how to take advantage of such situations.

Curling back into Leia, he pulled the poncho back over their heads.

“Now we wait for Chewie to make his move.” 

She nodded, finding herself not at all uncomfortable in his arms. She felt warm and cozy as she listened to the steady beat of his heart. She wondered if Han was having similar thoughts as they laid together, waiting for Chewbacca to set up the sting. 

“Darn. I thought they were getting up,” Hobbie whined. “This is kind of boring. I wanna see her deck him.” Leia smiled at that while Han wondered what he ever did to Hobbie Klivian to warrant that. 

“Good things come to those who wait,” Wes chimed up, holding the bet money in one hand and sipping campfire kaffe from the other. Then Chewie presented him with 20 credits that he had pulled from a pouch on his bandolier. 

“You in, Chewbacca?” Wes asked. The Wook grunted, holding up four digits. 

“Going for broke, huh, big fella? Odds are in favor of the nasty name calling, but, hey, they’re your credits to lose,” Wes greedily grabbed the money. “Time to wait and watch, boys!” 

The Rogues were transfixed on the “sleeping” duo. Han made a final show of stretching his arms and kicking his legs out from under the makeshift cover. They watched as Leia moved with him, giving a pert little wiggle to her bottom, stretching her shoulders with a delicate yawn and, finally, opening her eyes.

The Rogues leaned in, waiting for the fireworks. Wes was gloating. This was going to be something.

Han rose up to sitting, pulling Leia with him. 

The Rogues expected the invectives to flow from the small Alderranian female. They were dumbstruck when same said female rubbed at her sleepy eyes,formally turned to the lanky Corellian beside her, and sweetly said, “Good Morning, Han. Thank you for sharing your blanket with me. I was very cold and so appreciate your generosity.” With that, Leia placed a chaste kiss on Han’s cheek. 

Chewie whooped. The Rogues gazed in amazement; Wes in shock. He had just lost his considerable, months-in-the-making stash of winnings to the Wookiee. The bet hadn’t specified the type of kiss. 

Han, of course, couldn’t leave well enough alone. Leia’s lips were pulling away from his cheek when, in a swift move, he captured them with his own. The moment, all too brief for Solo’s liking, went unnoticed by the Rogues. They were too busy congratulating Chewie on his win and giving Wes grief for his loss. 

Leia pushed Han away with considerable force. “Back off, Flyboy,” she stammered. 

“Hey! You should be thanking me,” he whined. “I just raised a bundle for your favorite cause. That deserves a proper kiss.”

She considered him a moment, then sincerely said, “You’re right. Thank you, Han. Thanks for not letting Wes make a fool of me. I really do appreciate it.” She offered him a wide smile.

He took her hands in his, and with a gentle squeeze, softly replied, “I’d never bet against you, Leia.” But, he couldn’t let the tender moment last. “And, I’ll volunteer in a kissin’ booth with you anytime, Sweetheart, as long as you're the one kissin’ me.” 

The End.


End file.
